


Countdown

by katekane



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Femslash, First Kiss, New Year's Eve, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katekane/pseuds/katekane
Summary: In the spirit of the season here’s one of favourite clichés - the countdown on New Year’s Eve.





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> Found this little piece from app. 2012 on an old USB. It was only missing, like, two paragraphs, so decided to finish and post it here. It was originally intended to be part of a good ol' round of trope bingo, but never got around to do other kissing tropes. I really don't remember why I chose the script format :-)

**FADE IN:**

**INT. MAURA’S LIVING ROOM.**

The place is almost beyond recognition. Every vertical surface has been excessively decorated in shiny, metallic colours and any thinkable New Years Eve party decoration item can be found somewhere in the room. The music playing in the background is being performed live.

FRANKIE RIZZOLI JR. enters, clad in a somewhat crumbled police uniform, hair stuck to his forehead which is covered in a light sheen. He clearly comes straight from work and has hurried to get here. Camera tracks him as he tries to navigate through the crowd. We recognize a few faces, mostly from the BPD, but most of these people are unfamiliar. Frankie looks about, seemingly a little lost, when the voice of his big sister, JANE RIZZOLI, calls out to him.

 

JANE:

Real imaginative costume there, lil’ bro! You outdid yourself.

 

Frankie rolls his eyes at Jane who emerges from the crowd, beer in hand and a big grin on her face. She is dressed in a nice, but decidedly casual tank top and dark jeans.

 

FRANKIE:

Funny. And you should be one to talk. You’re not dressed up either.

 

JANE:

I’m a serial killer. We look just like everyone else.

 

FRANKIE:

I thought the theme was “New Year’s resolution” – you wanna be more like a serial killer??

           

JANE:

To catch ‘em you need to learn how to think like ‘em. No one ever taught you that?

 

Frankie rolls his eyes again, clearly not buying Jane’s attempt at an excuse for not dressing up.

 

JANE:

Clearly no one taught you to not roll your eyes at a killer. It could cost you your life, you know.

 

 

FRANKIE:

Whatever. I feel pretty dead already.

 

JANE:

How _did_ you manage to get stuck with the worst traffic shift of the year? You lose a bet or something?

 

A beat. Frankie is trying to avoid eye-contact. His eyes drift, then seem to catch on to something or someone in a corner.

 

JANE:

Really?! You did? What was the bet about?

 

 

FRANKIE:

(clearly deflecting) Can I have a sip? I’m parched.

 

JANE:

Here, take it. I’ll get myself another one. The bet. Tell me about it.

 

Frankies eyes are drifting again. This time Jane manages to follow his gaze to Maura who is currently talking lightly to a couple of unfamiliar people in a corner of the room.

 

JANE:

Maura? You made a bet about Maura?

 

FRANKIE:

Um, well, no, not quite… (manages to straighten his face and gesture towards the room and its decorations)  
I was just thinking how she really outdid herself.

 

JANE:

And you haven’t even tried the champagne with gold flakes yet.

 

Frankie spits a bit of beer back into the bottle. Or attempts to.

 

 

JANE:

(smirking) You know Maura – subtlety is not really her thing.

 

FRANKIE:

Her outfit’s kinda subtle. I mean, considering-it’s-Maura-subtle. Who’s she supposed to be?

 

They are both surveying her now. She is still talking to the unfamiliar faces, but it is clearly a superficial conversation. Her hair is pulled back and a pair of elegant glasses rest on her nose. She is clad in a form fitting suit and tie, a stethoscope around her neck. Oddly enough the somewhat butch outfit seems to emphasise her femininity.

 

JANE:

Something Josephine Baker.

 

FRANKIE:

(confused) The girl with the banana skirt?

 

JANE:

(snorts) It’s _Maura_ we’re talking about, so no; it’s Baker the-pioneer-doctor-no-one-ever-heard-about.  
Reduced infant mortality in New York by drawing attention to hygiene …

 Realising she is giving away exactly how close she has in fact been paying attention, she hastily adds:

 

JANE:

… or something.

 

FRANKIE:

She sure pulls that suit off better than I would.

 

JANE:

(smirking) Heels don’t do anything for your calves?

 

Frankie punches his sister’s shoulder, but she doesn’t budge; her smirk is turning into a grin.

 

FRANKIE:

Shut up. She here alone?

 

JANE:

Yes. The 70 people currently trashing her house are not really here.

 

Jane’s eyes are on Maura. She is now longer engaged in a conversation, but standing on her own, casting polite smiles about, but also fidgeting a bit with her stethoscope.

 

FRANKIE:

You know that’s not what I meant! She didn’t bring a date?

 

JANE:

No. Why? (looks at Frankie with sudden alarm) You’re not considering-

 

FRANKIE:

No, no, Maura’s like a sister! I just-   
I find it a little odd that someone like Maura would be without a date on a New Year’s Eve.

 

JANE:

 

Well, she was busy decorating and stuff, probably didn’t have time to think about it.

 

FRANKIE:

 It’s still weird though. I mean, look at her – it wouldn’t take her long to pick someone up.

 

Jane can’t help but throw glances in Maura’s direction.

 

JANE:

She has high standards. Nothing wrong with that.  
  


Franke is staring intently at her sister now, even if her eyes keep flickering towards Maura.

 

FRANKIE:

Regardless, someone like Maura cannot remain single forever.  
She’ll find someone, probably sooner rather than later, and it will be forever after, ‘cause that person will never wanna let her go again.

 

At this, Jane’s eyes find their way back to her brother. She is clearly bothered by his comment.

 

JANE:

I have no idea where you’re going with this. Why are you making such a fuss about Maura’s civil status, as if it’s any of your business? Why aren’t you making a fuss about Korsak being without a date or yourself for that matter?

 

Around them the countdown to midnight is beginning.

 

JANE:

Like you said, Maura can have anyone she wants, she’ll be fine.

 

FRANKIE:

Yes, she could have anyone she wants, yet she hasn’t brought anyone from the outside tonight.   
Isn’t that interesting? She hasn’t actually been on any dates for months, has she?

 

Jane is shrugging his words off, eyes on her shoes.

 

JANE:

Maybe it just isn’t that important to her. Her life’s pretty full. She has her career. Friends. Family.

 

FRANKIE:

You.

 

Jane’s head whips up at this.

 

FRANKIE:

She has you. Except you’re busy with someone else these days. Where is he by the way?

 

Out of the corner of her eye Jane can easily spot Maura. The countdown is continuing.

 

JANE:

No idea. Maybe he’s in the kitchen.

 

Someone else enters Jane’s peripheral vision and Maura’s personal space. Tommy. Jane’s head turns and she stares directly at Maura for the first time in minutes.

 

JANE:

Oh no, he wouldn’t dare!

 

Without saying another word to Frankie, she determinedly heads for the other side of the room where Maura and Tommy are. She’s politely laughing at something he says. This makes Jane frown as she navigates through the crowd.

Just as the countdown is about to reach zero, Tommy predictably begins to lean forward, but at the very last second Jane manages to step in front of Tommy, kicking his shin on the way, and without thinking she grabs Maura’s face and kisses her right in front of her brother. The kiss is brief, but Maura’s hands manage to find Jane’s upper arms and they linger there after Jane pulls away. Maura looks a bit stunned.

Behind them, Tommy is cursing and holding his shin, mumbling something about cock-blocking. Jane glances over her shoulder and Maura follows her gaze, understanding dawning on her face.

 

MAURA:

Finding it necessary to protect my honour, detective?

 

JANE:

I know how hard it is to resist the Rizzoli charm.

 

Maura chuckles, her hands slide down Jane’s arms and graze Jane’s hands before they drop to Maura’s sides. Their gazes lock in a rather intense way. As if something is being wordlessly communicated. Or perhaps as if another, but silent countdown is underway, but a countdown to what? Then Maura blinks, wiggles her shoulders a little, shakes her head almost unnoticeably, and the countdown to whatever has been aborted.

 

MAURA:

I think I need another drink, can I get you one?

 

JANE:

Only if it’s something I can pronounce. And _no_ pink umbrellas.

 

Maura rolls her eyes in a way usually characteristic of her Italian friend, then she begins to turn in the direction of the kitchen. But she pauses halfway and sends Jane a pondering look over her shoulder.

 

MAURA:

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should be trying something new?

 

She smiles briefly and holds Jane’s confused gaze for a beat. Then she turns fully and walks to the kitchen. Jane’s eye follows Maura even after she has disappeared in the crowd.


End file.
